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Gondolas on the River Soar
As she walks to work, the woman in the patterned coat,
expects derelict sock factories
to turn into gorgeously-lit palazzos
and the bridge from where the bones
of the hunchback king were scattered
to be glam, like the Rialto; imagines,
behind drab nets on narrow-boats
lovers drinking Bellinis made from white peaches;
instead of a bus-queue, sees a masked procession,
looks for mysteries in puddles,
but she decides, though, not to subscribe
entirely to the discourse of romance
because, what if her gondolier’s fat,
and, misjudging the mask, wears a Halloween Scream?
This woman in the tightly-belted patterned coat
has high expectations of gondolas on the River Soar.
